Feeling Beauty

Learning to see life through the eyes of a poet.

Through an odd collision of genetics, somehow my husband, an extremely logical attorney, and I, a relatively pragmatic physician, have a son with the soul of a poet.

From a very early age, a sublime smile playing on his lips, he would tilt his head and stare, as if enticed by something beyond his vision. As soon as he could talk, he would say things like, "Mama, please wear that sweater again. It makes your eyes and hair shine."

To take a walk with Joey is to notice the beauty in the mundane.

To take a walk with Joey is to notice the beauty in the mundane. It is to recognize that tree roots really are alligators, and that raindrops on leaves are sparkling diamonds from heaven. The other morning he exclaimed, "Mama, look! The birds are dancing for us!" As I looked up I saw a group of birds being whipped around by the wind, and indeed, they appeared to be dancing.

When I listen to him I marvel that his clear green eyes see past the obvious and seek a more pure, beautiful essence. Though my scientific training has taught me to approach people and situations in a stepwise, systematic fashion, my years of experience are teaching me what he already knows -- that past the glare of the obvious, the subtle glow of what lies beneath is often much more amazing.

I was a first year medical student when I first realized that outward appearances occasionally belie the truth. Late for my medical interviewing class, I was assigned the patient no one else wanted -- the homeless man muttering at the end of the hall. I walked toward his room and was taken aback by his matted hair, filthy face and darting eyes.

"Mr. Allen?" I ventured, determined to get out of there quickly.

"Yeah," he glared.

"Uh, I'm Jackie, a student. I just have a few questions to ask and then I'll leave you alone."

"Make it quick," he grumbled.

I started asking my rudimentary medical history questions which he answered, annoyed, with shifty eyes. Though his eyes kept wandering, his answers were articulate and succinct. At the end, as more of an aside, I asked, "How did you end up here?"

For the first time, his gaze stilled and he looked directly at me. Perhaps because I seemed harmless, he let down his guard and told me his story. He was Jewish, had been married with a house and two cars, and worked as a photographer. Through a series of events -- a divorce, bad economy and depression, he ended up on the wrenching path that is homelessness.

From an educated viewpoint, he told me all about the horrors of skid row. And then he said something that I'll never forget: "I used to be an artist and photograph beautiful things. I want to be able to focus on beauty again."

There it was -- even beneath such a hardened and gnarled surface, he glowed.

When I went back the next day, he was gone. But even now, when I see homeless people, I wonder, after their gaze steadies and the mumbling stops, what sort of story would they tell, what sort of beauty is theirs?

More recently, a young woman came to my office. She had the brash swagger of someone who had lived hard. Tattooed and pierced, she appeared disaffected, as if she couldn't be bothered by emotions. As I examined her, I noticed needle marks in her abdomen. Figuring I knew the answer, I asked accusatorily, "What is this from?"

"Oh, that," she said somewhat sheepishly. "I'm giving myself hormone injections. I'm donating my eggs to an infertile couple. A family took me in as a child after my mother left and I feel if a couple really wants a baby and can't have one, I would like to help out. It's my way of giving back."

Again, the softness under the rough exterior.

Looking beyond what is in front of me even helps me, on occasion, treat patients.

A few months ago, a woman came to my office complaining of intractable headaches for one month. A corporate attorney in a big firm, she had the air of competence and power. The headaches, occurring each afternoon, were becoming increasingly debilitating. After a thorough history and physical exam, I could find nothing wrong with her, but I did notice a distinctive medallion around her neck.

Realizing I was eyeing it, she said, "This is from the Burning Man Festival" (a two-day new agey folk music festival held in the Arizona desert each year).

I sent her for head scans and labs, all of which came back negative. When she came back a week later, I told her perhaps the headaches are stress or anxiety related, but I could tell she was not convinced. She wanted a diagnosis and medicine, and I could not deliver.

When I didn't hear back from her, I assumed she had found another doctor. Then she came back last week.

"Dr. Yaris, something you said made sense."

Surprised she had listened and tried some of the stress reduction techniques I had suggested, I said, "Really?"

"You were right -- there AREN'T any corporate attorneys at the Burning Man. Congratulate me! Today is my last day at work!"

My education has taught me to practice the science of medicine, but I hope I will learn to practice the poetry of medicine.

She was going to work as a child advocacy attorney, and even do pro-bono work. Not surprisingly, the headaches have gone away.

As I continue to practice medicine, these types of experiences have become more commonplace. The high level executive having chest pains until she quit work to become a writer. As she put it: "In my heart, I always knew I had a novel in me. It finally needed to come out." And the high tech vice president with low back pain until he opened a foundation for deaf kids, "to give back."

Witnessing all of this, I am beginning to think my job as a physician is not only to diagnose what is going on in people's bodies, but to help them find the incredible light that is their spirit as well. My education has taught me to practice the science of medicine, but I hope, following my son's lead, I will learn to practice the poetry of medicine.

As I watch my son, his head tilted slightly and his face almost beatific as he gazes on the pinks and blues of a winter sunrise, I pray we don't "educate" the whimsy out of him, and that somehow, through him, I will learn to see the birds dance.

The opinions expressed in the comment section are the personal views of the commenters. Comments are moderated, so please keep it civil.

Visitor Comments: 21

(21)
Anonymous,
July 27, 2006 12:00 AM

'Birds dancing...'

I do not see birds dancing, I see them as messengers, adorning the sky, God'ssmaller gems of creation, reminding me He is watching, hearing, answering us.

(20)
julie,
July 27, 2006 12:00 AM

the son's shine!

YOU...are an incredible writer!!! What an excellent story--content and most finely tuned words!! I think your son merely shined back what he got from you. I am more into "alternative health" verses your allopathic route, but I have to tell you, you are a bridge of hope! Eastern, or Chinese medicine, allots a paradigm shift for those who dig into it. They explain it is best to OBSERVE the body more as a poet and less as a scientist. You DO that and speak and write so elequently. Thank you for sharing and I, too, will now be watching for your name!Blessings to overtake you!

(19)
Ruth H.,
July 24, 2006 12:00 AM

Thank you for verbalizing these beautiful truths.

(18)
malki,
July 24, 2006 12:00 AM

I love Jackie Yaris' articles!

They are my favorite articles on aish!

(17)
alex laughlin,
July 23, 2006 12:00 AM

Well worth reading.

Thank you for taking the time to look beyond ourselfs and see the true world that is there for us to enjoy. We we like your son see the real beauty in nature and in each other.

(16)
Mrs. G.,
July 23, 2006 12:00 AM

Joey does indeed have the soul of a poet. I know this first hand because I was his Kindergarten teacher! I have always appreciated Joey's unique view of the world. May his joyous disposition and sunny outlook onlife continue to enlighten our days!

(15)
Rena S.,
July 23, 2006 12:00 AM

Beautiful article

I would love to read more articles by this writer/physician. I am also interested in both science/nature and artistic expression. Life is a synthesis of both, plus much more. Inspiring to read!

(14)
Barbara Doran-Rogel,
April 16, 2006 12:00 AM

Dr. Yaris' writing really touched me

I truly wish more doctors would see the world as Dr. Yaris does. She has deep insight and is very inspirational. Her children also sound like little angels.

(13)
Alek,
October 25, 2005 12:00 AM

Your article was very nice. I agree with a previous commentator. It is quite important to communicate with the child inside us (or, in your case, your son, too!). Yes, this does sound new-agey and a lot of people therefore shrug the idea off. But, it is one of the most important truths out there. Zen master Thich Nhat Hanh has much to say about this subject, if you are interested.

Shalom,
Alek

(12)
robyn,
October 3, 2004 12:00 AM

fabulous insight

wow...that was very touching. i feel as though true beauty was lying right under my nose and i just ignored it until now. your son is amazing. tell him to never forget what makes the world beautiful - he seems to be the only one who knows. sounds like a baby buddha to me.

(11)
bron,
February 4, 2004 12:00 AM

Loved the story - thanks

I am very fortunate, I am going through a mid life crisis, which in reality is more like back to reality, where blades of grass and spiders, and birds and trees have a beautiful wonderment about them -- I have never been happier - or more cash strapped in my life lol

(10)
Katherine,
January 31, 2004 12:00 AM

:)

This article remindes me of Out Of Eden's song Lovely Day...

(9)
Ivanov Reyez,
January 31, 2004 12:00 AM

Childlike Wonderment

Years ago, I read somewhere that genius is the ability to retain that childlike wonderment. One can go to college to become a lawyer, physician, engineer, etc., but college cannot make one a poet. It is the poetic vision that can transform any mediocre professional into a great one.

(8)
Kristen,
January 28, 2004 12:00 AM

What a beautiful article!

I work in healthcare and I have kids of my own, who of course have friends, some of which are rough.

They all have something beautiful about them, in spite of my occasional frustration with them.

I love working with kids. They have beauty in their moments. And it is so worth it when we get to see it.

Just last week, I took our girl scout troop snow tubing. When we got back to the parking lot, where the parents were picking their kids up one girl, new to our troop and a little shy sometimes, rushed up behind me and threw her arms around my waist with a beautiful smile on her face. Not a word was said, but she really touched my heart.

(7)
Anonymous,
January 26, 2004 12:00 AM

Thank you

Shalom, That was one of the most meaningful articles I have read!!!!!!I will not forgot. Thank you

(6)
Sharon,
January 26, 2004 12:00 AM

Skin Deep

This is so true.Beneath each of us lies a child that God has created and when we "let down" our guard, our mask we present to the world then others can see the real beauty inside. God doesn't see the outside and neither should we. I write poetry and life is full of it all we have to do is look beyond the surface. Thank-you for this insight.

(5)
yvette,
January 26, 2004 12:00 AM

feeling beauty

SOMETIMES ITS DIFFICULT FOR US TO OBSERVE THE BEAUTY WITHIN US OR AROUND US. IT'S BECAUSE WE'RE ALWAYS BUSY WORKING OR CLEANING UP OUR HOME. WE SHOULD TRY OBSERVING AND LISTENING TO ALL THESE BEAUTIES BEFORE ITS TOO LATE. THERE IS ONLY ONE LIFE TO LIVE AND ENJOY. SO WE MUST DO OUR BEST. KEEP UP THE GOOD WORK. THIS ARTICLE IS FANTASTIC.

(4)
Anonymous,
January 26, 2004 12:00 AM

Jackie Yaris article

What a beautiful article. As a retired health professional, and human being, I have always believed that the true beauty of the soul lies beneath the often hard exterior. Every child, in our fast-paced world is too often ignored, or parents too quick to stop and look at their minds.

(3)
Judah Rosen,
January 26, 2004 12:00 AM

slightly off topic

your beautiful article reminded me of a tool i read about this year, when judging people harshly or unfavorably -
imagine them as a baby!
it really does work wonders!

(2)
Kathy,
January 26, 2004 12:00 AM

Fantastic article

This was a wonderful article.

(1)
Anonymous,
January 25, 2004 12:00 AM

spirit and body are not seperate

It is only in the last few centuries that medicine has seperated diseases of the body from those of the mind and spirit - an artificial seperation. As this article highlights, a person's spirit, if trampled on and secreted away will let itself be known all too often in diseases of the body. We need to listen to ourselves and realise that health is found in not just in taking care of ourselves physically but also spiritually - pleasure in beauty and fulfilling our souls' yearnings.

This year during Chanukah I will be on a wilderness survival trip, and it will be very difficult to properly celebrate the holiday. I certainty won't be able to bring along a Menorah.

So if I am going to celebrate only one day of Chanukah, which is the most significant?

The Aish Rabbi Replies:

If a person can only celebrate one day of Chanukah, he should celebrate the first day.

This is similar to a case where a person is in prison, and the authorities agree to permit him to go to synagogue one day. The law is that he should go at the first opportunity, and not wait for a more important day like the High Holidays.

The reason is because one should not allow the opportunity of a mitzvah to pass. Moreover, it is quite conceivable that circumstances will later change and allow for additional observance. Therefore, we do not let the first chance pass. (Sources: Code of Jewish Law OC 90, Mishnah Berurah 28.)

As an important aside, Chanukah candles must be lit in (or at the entrance to) a home rather than out of doors. Thus, you should not light in actual "wilderness," but only after you've pitched your tent for the night.

There may be another reason why the first night is the one to focus on. Chanukah is celebrated for eight days to commemorate the one-day supply of oil that miraculously burned for eight days. But if you think about it, since there was enough oil to burn naturally for one night, nothing miraculous happened on that first night! So why shouldn't Chanukah be just seven days?!

There are many wonderful answers given to this question, highlighting the special aspect of the first day. Here are a few:

1) True, the miracle of the oil did not begin until the second day, and lasted for only seven days. But the Sages designated the first day of Chanukah in commemoration of the miraculous military victory.

2) Having returned to the Temple and found it in shambles, the Jews had no logical reason to think they would find any pure oil. The fact that the Maccabees didn't give up hope, and then actually found any pure oil at all, is in itself a miracle.

3) The Sages chose Chanukah, a festival that revolves around oil's ability to burn, as the time to teach the fundamental truth that even so-called "natural" events take place only because God wants them to.

The Talmudic Sage Rabbi Chanina Ben Dosa expressed this truth in explaining a miracle that occurred in his own home. Once, his daughter realized that she had lit the Shabbos candles with vinegar instead of oil. Rabbi Chanina calmed her, saying, "Why are you concerned! The One Who commanded oil to burn, can also command vinegar to burn!" The Talmud goes on to say that those Shabbos lights burned bright for many hours (Taanit 25a).

To drive this truth home, the Sages decreed that Chanukah be observed for eight days: The last seven to commemorate the miracle of the Menorah, and the first to remind us that even the “normal” burning of oil is only in obedience to God's wish.

In closing, I'm not sure what's stopping you from celebrating more than one day? At a minimum, you can light one candle sometime during the evening, and that fulfills the mitzvah of Chanukah - no “official Menorah” necessary. With so much joy to be had, why limit yourself to one night only?!

In 165 BCE, the Maccabees defeated the Greek army and rededicated the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Finding only one jar of pure oil, they lit the Menorah, which miraculously burned for eight days. Also on this day -- 1,100 years earlier -- Moses and the Jewish people completed construction of the Tabernacle, the portable sanctuary that accompanied them during 40 years of wandering in the desert. The Tabernacle was not dedicated, however, for another three months; tradition says that the day of Kislev 25 was then "compensated" centuries later -- when the miracle of Chanukah occurred and the Temple was rededicated. Today, Jews around the world light a Chanukah menorah, to commemorate the miracle of the oil, and its message that continues to illuminate our lives today.

A person who utilizes suffering to arouse himself in spiritual matters will find consolation. He will recognize that even though the suffering was difficult for him, it nevertheless helped him for eternity.

When you see yourself growing spiritually through your suffering, you will even be able to feel joy because of that suffering.

They established these eight days of Chanukah to give thanks and praise to Your great Name(Siddur).

Jewish history is replete with miracles that transcend the miracle of the Menorah. Why is the latter so prominently celebrated while the others are relegated to relative obscurity?

Perhaps the reason is that most other miracles were Divinely initiated; i.e. God intervened to suspend the laws of nature in order to save His people from calamity.

The miracle of the Menorah was something different. Having defeated the Seleucid Greek invaders, the triumphant Jews entered the Sanctuary. There they found that they could light the Menorah for only one day, due to a lack of undefiled oil. Further, they had no chance of replenishing the supply for eight days. They did light the Menorah anyway, reasoning that it was best to do what was within their ability to do and to postpone worrying about the next day until such worry was appropriate. This decision elicited a Divine response and the Menorah stayed lit for that day and for seven more.

This miracle was thus initiated by the Jews themselves, and the incident was set down as a teaching for all future generations: concentrate your efforts on what you can do, and do it! Leave the rest to God.

While even our best and most sincere efforts do not necessarily bring about miracles, the teaching is nevertheless valid. Even the likelihood of failure in the future should not discourage us from any constructive action that we can take now.

Today I shall...

focus my attention on what it is that I can do now, and do it to the best of my ability.

With stories and insights,
Rabbi Twerski's new book Twerski on Machzor makes Rosh Hashanah prayers more meaningful. Click here to order...